


Tempt My Trouble

by hurricxneamelia



Series: Somehow Good Love Hurts Worse [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Delilah and Anna actually have character, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:53:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22248337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurricxneamelia/pseuds/hurricxneamelia
Summary: She felled the world for them, and the world will soon begin to fall at their feet. They have conquered Whitestone and taken over with an iron fist, allowing little room for question. Any resistance is squelched quickly; they are the Briarwoods: powerful, fearsome, and enigmatic.The only person more enigmatic Delilah has encountered is Dr. Anna Ripley. The dark haired woman is unwaveringly ambitious and hungry to learn. The lady appreciates this. Dr. Ripley’s practical, almost cold nature entranced the necromancer from the first weeks of their partnership in Whitestone.
Relationships: Delilah Briarwood/Anna Ripley, Delilah Briarwood/Sylas Briarwood
Series: Somehow Good Love Hurts Worse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601596
Kudos: 4





	Tempt My Trouble

Delilah Briarwood is intrigued by Anna Ripley. That’s just it, and the fascination remains abnormally steadfast considering her past fancies. She is a woman of deep conviction and swirling feelings which often lead to volatile decisions. A person catches her eye; she and Sylas lure them into bed until Delilah has had her fill. If Sylas is uninterested, he lets his wife act as she wishes, understanding her infatuation is brief and superficial.

After all, Sylas is the love of her life. She broke the world for him. She has never questioned her devotion to the man she loves. From vivid memories of their life before his death, completing the ritual of vampirism, to now, she hasn’t questioned it. Her emotions guide her, and they don’t sway away from Sylas. 

She felled the world for them, and the world will soon begin to fall at their feet. They have conquered Whitestone and taken over with an iron fist, allowing little room for question. Any resistance is squelched quickly; they are the Briarwoods: powerful, fearsome, and enigmatic. 

The only person more enigmatic Delilah has encountered is Dr. Anna Ripley. The dark haired woman is unwaveringly ambitious and hungry to learn. The lady appreciates this. Dr. Ripley’s practical, almost cold nature entranced the necromancer from the first weeks of their partnership in Whitestone. 

She has believed it would pass and the Doctor would become another one of many of her toys. She has taken her to bed and gotten her fill. Memories of nights etched into the black canvas of her mind refuse to fade. She always remembers the way Anna’s hands feel in her hair, pulling, taking advantage of Delilah’s rare submission, and god memories of Anna’s tongue fucking her are almost enough alone to leave her wanting more.  
After the fi  
rst several times, Sylas lost any interest he had, and Anna never seems to be interested in him intimately or otherwise. Then, it’s just Delilah and Anna. Both are happier this way and their agreement is unspoken: casual sex, that’s it. 

Dr. Ripley doesn’t quite know why the Lady keeps coming back to her. She’s observant, and she knows how Delilah is; she burns hot in her obsession for a brief moment and goes cold the next. Anna’s not necessarily complaining. These ‘midnight’ trysts satisfy any needs she might have. It is really is practical in her mind, and that’s what grounds Dr. Ripley. 

She’s always been grounded in the carnal, experimental nature of her work. There’s no need to be so formal dissecting a corpse or experimenting upon something, and how she’s hated the rigid formalities of life. She sees little need in most ceremonies and the indulgent practises of others. Of course she indulges herself occasionally, one can't live life without indulging and Delilah is just that, but she sees no reason to implement these things in her life permanently. 

And Delilah is the opposite. She indulges herself on whim. Her plans are elaborate and grandiose, and Dr. Ripley doesn’t know the full extent of any plans. She does as she’s instructed, only prodding where she deems necessary or perhaps where there is something of particular interest for her to learn. 

Lady Briarwood’s magic is also polar to Anna’s skillset. Her magic bends and alters the very fingers of fate. She bereaves those long dead of a peaceful, well deserved rest and speeds those with a long life’s thread toward the grave. In a stark contrast, Anna deals in mortal flesh and blades, really nothing she believed would interest a necromancer. 

Yet, as time passes, she feels eyes on her as she works, intense searching eyes. Searching for what, she has no clue, but every so often she will feel Delilah watching her work. Once wryly, she comments, “I didn’t know you had any interest in medicine.”

She thinks she sees a flicker of some emotion that is so brief it’s indistinguishable flash across Delilah’s eyes before she recovers and her smooth, low voice answers, “I can’t help but check on your progress occasionally.” 

Dr. Ripley gives a simple nod, humming as a verbal response. Delilah watches too much to be doing just what she admits. 

Anna refuses to push though. She likes piecing together the puzzle that is Delilah Briarwood. It’s another intellectual challenge of sorts. By day she can occupy herself with her own experiments and the Briarwood’s orders. By night she can dismantle Lady Briarwood in her head over and over again until she understands. 

Delilah knows she deceives well, but deceiving Anna Ripley is a different matter. The scientist can probably see through her deflection, but that wound to her pride doesn’t stop her from persisting. She herself is trying to figure out what it is about Anna that makes her so alluring. She can make a list of the things she admires about Anna: intelligence, ambition, medical prowess, wit, a certain other set of skills. 

She spends ages contemplating this list, going over it over and over again in her mind as her agreement with Anna remains in place. Subconsciously, sex becomes more than just sex. She finds herself beginning to feel for the Doctor. When she feels she feels violently and quickly. She knows the difference between obsession and feeling. 

Sylas begins to notice. He expected his wife to drop Anna after a couple weeks, but it’s been months. She is more distant. He wonders what’s happening in that pretty head of hers, and when asked she brushes it off with that charming little smile of hers. Often, she spends her nights with Anna and she during the day she spends more and more time ‘observing Anna’s progress.’ Sylas can feel a seething envy in his chest. Why should his wife have such marked and prolonged adoration for someone meant to be temporary?

So, he confronts her. “Delilah?” He asks as she enters their room one night.

“Yes, darling?” she raises a brow lazily in his direction. 

“What is Dr. Ripley to you?”

The necromancer opens her mouth to respond, but almost hesitates. She does not know she has mulled over this question in her mind. She proceeds nonetheless, “An object of fancy.” 

“Is that all?” he asks incredulously. 

“Yes, really.” She appraises him from her vanity. His face easily readable after all these years. His traditionally stoic features twitch imperceptibly and his mouth is curved into a frown. “Are you really jealous?” she teases standing up and striding toward the bed in the room. He opens his mouth to respond, but she covers it with a delicate finger, “Let me show you how much I love you then, hm?” 

His face morphs into one of hunger and he gives her an eager nod. In a moment, her lips are pressed fiercely to his and she’s straddling his lap.  
As she fucks Sylas doesn’t feel like it used to. Delilah is a woman of passion and she doesn’t feel what she has with Sylas in the past. As he roams the night after they’re finished, she lies there, contemplating the question posed to her before: What is Anna?

What does she feel for Anna? Has this crossed her threshold for obsession into more unwittingly? She tests this theory the next night as she finds herself at Ripley’s mercy. Her body is alight with energy. 

Now, she is putting the puzzle together for herself. She believed Sylas was her great love? Can someone have more than one great love? She decides possibly because she can’t deny that she feels something for the doctor. Not just in the bedroom, but she adores conversing with her, watching her work, and seeing the moments where she is more human, and will give herself grin of victory or laugh at something said. It’s mesmerising. Delilah has grown to love each one of these things individually and on her own, while subconsciously she realises she is falling out of love with Sylas.

The latter is more concerning than the former. She broke the world for Sylas, she ‘signed a deal’ to pluck him from death’s grasp. In both of their minds, it had been them against a world ready to be taken. She doesn’t regret making her sacrifice for Sylas and she can’t identify where anything could have gone wrong. She also has a price to pay for signing that deal.

Her head spins with thoughts and unwittingly rare tears prick at the corners of her eyes. This isn’t supposed to happen. It’s always been Lord and Lady Briarwood standing at the crest of the world, and lately it’s been them conquering bit by bit. She never imagined this happening, then she just had to meet Anna and let her fascination turn into whatever this is. 

It hits her in full, she is indeed falling in love with Ann Ripley. This how she felt when she and Sylas were together in their hayday. She felt all of the passion and interest for him just as she now feels for Anna. 

She’s not out of love with Sylas yet, bur rather a pendulum and Dr. Ripley and Sylas are opposite ends; she is swinging further and further toward Anna, and she’s never considered herself a volatile woman. If anything she views herself to be obstinate and cold. This fact only adds to the confusion. She’s been so steadfast for so long, so this doesn’t make sense. On the other hand though, it adds a layer of validity to her feelings: this isn’t just a frivolous whim. 

Not in a million years would she gave guessed that Anna Ripley would be different than any of the other people she and Sylas brought into bed. She thinks back, attempting to pinpoint a moment where Anna became more. She thinks back to their nights, to the discussions about their plans, to simple conversations, to the moments after they’re done for a night and Anna is vulnerable. 

The necromancer enjoys seeing people at their most vulnerable; it makes her feel safer. She doesn’t always hide what goes on in that head of hers well, and seeing others vulnerabilities and every feeling that washes through them is comfort. It’s also somewhat of a manipulator and power move, but when she sees Anna in intimate, true moments, she only wants more. There is no inclination to manipulate, only to discover more. Perhaps it was lying there beside Anna, exchanging minimal words and the time spent late in Delilah’s study at first discussing work and then eventually drifting to other topics which causes the Lady to begin to feel something more for Anna. 

She quickly brushes away the tear that streaks down her face now. Despite the confusion, it is not the time to cry. She pushes away the hazy fears of consequence with a shutter.

Delilah speaks to Anna about it the next night. The two women lay in bed, Anna wrapped loosely around the wizard, a hand lazily tracing patterns on her side. “Anna, darling?” Delilah’s voice inquires. 

She hums in response and Delilah rolls over to face her, “I want to talk to you about something.” 

“Go on.”

“I’ve thought a lot about a particular matter, and that happens to be what you are to me,” she starts searching the Doctor’s face for any sort of hint as to what she could be thinking. 

“Oh?” Anna raises a brow, an unexpected wave of nerves coursing through her body. 

Delilah continues, “And I’ve mulled it over extensively. You’re much more than what our agreement as of now stands. Look, I won’t beat around the bush about it, I think I’m falling in love with you.” This is said as calmly as she can muster, her eyes meeting Anna’s. The fear of rejection looms, but if that were the case she could rid herself of Ripley one way or another. 

Ripley’s quick fails her as she opens her mouth to respond and nothing comes out. Delilah’s statement is loud and clear, and much more than Anna ever expected. Similarly, the doctor has not only been appraising her bedmate but her own feelings in the situation. The difference is she’s not come to such a conclusion. For once in her life, she is insecure and unsure of her stance. 

She is sure that Delilah is more than her boss, more than her acquaintance, more than a source of pleasure and stress relief, but she doesn’t know if Delilah is her love. Truth be told, she never contemplated that scenario. 

“You think?” she deflects. Delilah is usually so sure, then again, she loves, or loved Sylas for many years. This is new territory, and she’s still married. Ripley also suspects she had a hand in Sylas’ current state, and that takes devotion. 

“Yes. I’m in a rather precarious situation with these feelings, as you might imagine. Hiding them would do me no good, and confessing at least opens avenues for new possibilities, hm?” She raises a brow in return, a small smirk pulling at the edge of her lips. 

Anna sighs in response, collecting what she wishes to say in her head before she speaks, “That is true. This is just,” she pauses, “not quite what I expected.”

“That’s fair I suppose,” she takes a moment to observe the Doctor. Her face isn’t contorted or lying flat. She seems to be somewhere in between a faint smirk and frown. “Don’t overthink. What do you feel?” She finally asks. Anna deals in practicality rather than emotion, and the necromancer just wishes that she’d speak. 

“I’m unsure. I know what I feel is greater… affection than one feels for an employer or friend or bed mate, but past that I don’t know. And I thought you loved Sylas” She leaves an unspoken, ‘I’m not like you,’ hanging in the air. God, in this moment she wishes she were more like Delilah and could know and act on what she feels. 

“Well, take some time to figure it out, love and people can fall out love, have two great loves I think,” she responds, testing the waters with a new pet name. Ripley almost smiles at it. Instead of verbally responding, she lays a gentle kiss on Delilah’s lips. 

In the coming days, Anna ruminates on her thoughts and feelings. She pays close attention when she interacts with Delilah and there’s an undeniable flutter in her stomach when she knows Delilah will be in some capacity spending time with her. When did she begin to feel like this, or has it been there for quite sometime and she’s just repressed it? That she cannot decipher. 

It frustrates her; unlike a disease or wound she can’t pick it apart until she determines a solid etiology. With her own emotions she is stumbling her way through a fog and over rugged terrain unsure where it started and where it ends. 

Anna wonders what it is about Delilah that draws her in. There’s plenty of possible answers: her power, her intelligence, her charm, her face. Many people have fallen for at least one of those traits. Anna wonders if it’s a combination of it all, and perhaps in trying to puzzle such an enigma together, she stumbled upon long buried parts of the woman in question that only those intimate with her can see. 

Two weeks later, Anna gives her answer, “I want to try this. I won’t name it, but I want you.” Now, that statement means more than just wanting her body, it means wanting all of Delilah Briarwood. 

The necromancer’s charm seems to increase tenfold. If Anna can say one thing, it’s that she knows how to romance a woman. 

The more time Delilah begins to intentionally spend with Anna, the more her feelings intensify. She tries to see if her feelings for her husband truly are waning by putting effort into romance with him, yet it doesn’t feel like it used to. Simultaneously, what she has with Anna feels so right and so wrong. 

Sylas observes as keenly as he can, his wife’s attempts to romance him only marginally throwing him off. Anger builds as he begins to realise what’s going on. He asks Cassandra to confirm and she only tells him whispers of what she hears, but it’s enough. It’s enough to know that his wife feels for Anna. 

“Delilah,” he confronts her as she slips into their bedroom one morning. 

“Yes, darling?”

“I know what you’re doing with Anna.” His voice is cold. 

Delilah stops in her tracks, recovering not a second later to the best of her ability, “And what do you mean by that?” She knew he’d find out, but has been preparing what she could say and to no avail yet. 

“I hear and see things. Cassandra does to. You call her ‘love.’ You look at her with the same look in your eyes that you used to look at me with.” 

Her vision burns hot for a brief second as she thinks of Cassandra telling Sylas whatever she’s seen. Quickly she clears her mind, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s all just business as usual.”

Sylas’ eyes flash, “Oh I think you do know, and you’re mine, not hers. I thought you knew that,” he says a growl behind his words.

“Excuse me?” Delilah raises a brow, and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“You heard me. You’re mine.” And in a feat of preternatural speed, Sylas is in front of her and his hand finds its way onto her jaw. Before she can react, her lips are against his and she breaks back, pushing with a hand on his chest. His fingers still dig in to her jaw. 

“I am not something to be owned, Sylas. I chose to be yours,” she warns dangerously, meeting his eyes. “Now. Let go of me.” His hand stays where it is. 

“So now are you choosing not to be mine?” he spits pulling her closer. 

Instead of responding, Delilah sets a spell off against his chest and he’s forced back, holding the now smoking spot where her hand lay seconds before.

“You bitch.” He lunges forward again, and this time grabs her tightly, pinning her arms behind her. She can feel his sharp teeth grazing the flesh of her neck. “Answer my question.”

“So what if I am?” she questions, her tone not revealing the fear she feels. She knows Sylas is powerful and quick to anger in certain situations from past experience, but she’s never been on the receiving end of it. He was always her loving, protective husband. 

Though, things change just as her feelings have changed, his have. “How can you erase years of love? How can you throw it away in just under a year?” he hisses, his teeth scraping her skin. 

“Do you think I know? Do you think I have control of what I feel?” She manages to wiggle a hand around to send another necrotic blast into his chest. The impact causes him to relinquish his grasp on her. 

She spins to see his face looking, angry and broken. She doesn’t exactly blame him, but she does blame him for how he just acted. “You broke the world for us, for me,” he seethes. 

“I did, darling, and now it seems I’ve broken our world. For that, I’m sorry,” she is sorry. She wishes her years with Sylas had outweighed what she feels for Anna Ripley so she could have avoided this situation. She could have avoided breaking the fragile glass of their world that was now raining down on her head.

“I don’t want your apologies!” he hisses, once again lunging toward her. She almost dodges, but hits her head on the wardrobe as she attempts to move through the narrow escape. This impact gives Sylas enough time to restraint her against him again, and in a moment of passion, he bites into her neck. He’s done it before, but this time he drinks and drinks, savouring the way Delilah writhes. 

It’s then she notices their door is still ajar. She manages to blast it open more for someone to see. Sylas is too busy with his blood, and Delilah would fight back if she weren't heavily held back and currently having her life force drained. 

Eventually, Sylas finishes drinking and just rests his head in the crook of her neck. At this very moment, Anna happens to pass by the door. It is an astronomical coincidence. She looks in, and arches a brow at the woman she is growing to love, who mouths ‘help’. 

Sylas detects this near imperceptible shift in motion and looks up to see the dark haired doctor in the doorway. Suddenly, he relinquishes his grasp on Delilah and she catches herself against the nearest piece of furniture in order to steady herself. 

“You took my wife,” growls his gaze on Ripley, and he goes in to attack. In a moment of wonder, she is able to dodge and draw one of her guns, it’s simple, strong metal with a metallic glint, even in the low lighting. 

“I did no such thing. She chose me,” the doctor defends herself, her finger ghosting the gun’s trigger. 

“You existed and wormed your way in. You took her and broke our world!” Sylas counters. Seldom is he blind with anger, but now he is. 

He lunges again and Ripley shoots, hitting him square in the chest three times before he reaches her and rakes his claws down her side, tearing open her blouse. She hisses in pain barely able to deflect as he attempts to hold her in one place. 

Now Delilah is spurred into action. She fixates on Sylas, attempting to hold him in one place, freeze his joints, but he pushes back and resists. He lunges again for Ripley who slams her elbow into his chest and in a split second is able to fire again. The bullets make their mark. 

Sylas’ face contorts in pain; however, he’s still close enough to grab Anna and catch her off guard this time. His fangs without hesitation sink into her skin. In retaliation, Delilah shoots another blast of necrotic energy his way. He isn’t as hurt by it as he should be, but it’s enough for him to drop Ripley, who manages not to fall. 

She begins to make her way back toward Delilah, in hopes that if she reaches her she could Dimension Door them out until Sylas gets a hold of himself. A mortal is no match for vampiric speed though, especially a dazed one. As he nears, she shoots again, hitting him in the neck twice. He is only minorly deterred as he swipes for Ripley again. The wounds begin to close themselves as he does so. 

She fires again, reaching Delilah, and misfires, the bullet not exiting the barrel but breaking through the metal itself and richoting toward the drawn, thick curtain in the room. The bullet leaves a small but searing hole in the curtain while the paint crash of glass is heard. and Delilah reaches to touch Anna, presumably to cast her spell. 

Sylas, seeing what she’s doing, and blinded by his anger toward the Doctor, grabs for her arm, catching her wrist tightly. Delilah glares at him, “Let me go.” The vampire makes no such moves and only stares into her intense gaze. Anna slips from her side, an idea popping into her head. 

She makes her way quickly and quietly toward the curtain. It’s thick, bullets would be inefficient and noisy. A knife would be too slow. Taking a deep breath, she decides to chance it with her own physical strength. While Ripley isn’t the weakest, she knows physically she isn’t the strongest either. 

Nonetheless, she takes a hold of the curtains in two hands and yanks as hard as she can; much to her pleasure, it gives. The thick material shreds around its metal rod and the rod itself tumbles down on one side and the light of the day fills the room. 

As the rays hit Sylas, the smell of charred flesh begins to fill the air and his wounds stop sewing themselves back up. He breaks Delilah’s gaze to look at Ripley and in the process, catches a full face of sun. Flesh melts off of bone and he lets go of Delilah as the sun saps his life force and strength. He begins to pace backward into the room. Step. Step. Stagger. The smell of flesh is more prominent.

His body swirls into mist for a split second and then the rays of the sun do their job. 

He is gone, just like that. 

The room is deathly silent. Both women stand almost listlessly, processing what has just happened. Silent tears streak down Delilah’s face and she can’t fight them. Just because things had changed doesn’t mean she wanted Sylas dead. There would always be a part of her that had respect and love for him. She did not want him dead, but here they were. In hindsight though, she should have expected anger when she told him what was going on between her and Anna. He was a possessive man, and she knows he had a temper only rivaled by her own. 

Numbly, she reaches a hand to feel the bite wound on her neck and looks over at Anna who stares where Sylas stood. Finally, the doctor looks at the necromancer. For once there is no attempt to veil what she feels and Anna can discern the shock and grief etched into her face through her blank stare and the tears glistening on her pale cheeks.

Slowly, the doctor makes her way over, “You should lie down,” she advises in a soft tone, noting the wound on her neck.

“Not here,” Delilah says blindly grasping for Anna’s hand which the doctor gladly gives. 

“Then we’ll go to my room.” Delilah only nods in response, allowing the shorter woman to lead her through the castle halls. The undead servants pay her no abnormal attention, and thankfully she doesn’t encounter Cassandra. Once they reach Anna’s room, she helps Delilah lie down on the bed. “I’ll be back.”

She returns a moment later holding a glass of water for Delilah to drink. “Here. You’re weak.” Listlessly, for once, she takes it as Anna inspects the bite on her love’s neck. It’s deeper than usual. “This should heal on its own… but you will need to rest,” Ripley declares. 

“He’s dead,” Delilah says quietly instead of responding. “He’s dead,” she repeats, a bit louder this time. 

With a sigh, Anna sits on the edge of the bed, “I didn’t mean to kill him. I was only thinking in self defence. I wanted him to be hurt enough so we could escape and let him collect himself.”

“I know… he’s dead. I broke the world for him, and brought him back and he’s dead.” She’s not angry with Anna. She feels as if she should be, but she can’t bring herself to be. Sylas was attacking with the intention to maim and possibly kill. Ripley did what she had to, just as Delilah did. Now, somewhere she reconciles there will be consequences she's belabored dealing with.

Anna doesn’t question. She cannot fathom what must be swirling through the Lady’s head. Even if one falls out of love, that doesn’t mean you lose love for that person. All she can do is take one of Delilah’s delicate hands and say, “I know.” For a moment allows herself to be optimistic and have faith, perhaps things will be okay. Gingerly, she reaches to wipe away Delilah’s tears with her other hand. The necromancer leans into her touch.

“Stay with me?” Delilah asks quietly. More than anything, she just doesn’t want to be alone. 

“Of course.”


End file.
